This Made me Laugh

Here are Dallas Celebrities singing Faith Hill’s This Kiss…

I just couldn’t look away…turning down the sound does help.

Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday?

I am a huge reality TV fan.  I don’t get involved in the non-competition shows, but you televise a group of people competing and I am in.

Amazing Race.

Top Chef.

Project Runway.

The top 3.  Since I don’t cook or sew, my only hope to someday competing would be on the Amazing Race which if run with my husband would end in one of those tearful driving scenes where he would be exasperatedly exclaiming, “How do you get to age 40 without map reading ability?”

Maybe living vicariously through these shows from the comfort of my couch is the best thing for my marriage.

I have been an avid Project Runway vicarious liver…not liver, but one who lives…since season 2.

I pick a favorite and root for their success throughout the show.  Laura Bennett was my season 3 pick.  She is the mother of 6.

YES, 6 children.

*gasp*

Oh, and 5 of them are boys.

*double gasp*

As a mom of only three boys, she makes me look like an underachiever.

Anyway, the short story of that season of Project Runway was that she created beautiful, sophisticated designs while pregnant with her 6th child and ended up as runner up.

I thought she should have won, but my invitation to the judges panel still hasn’t arrived.

Laura just wrote a book about her life with her large family and I was excited to get an advanced copy.  It is called, “Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday?“  which is also a quote from the book.

Not only does she have 5 boys living at home, she and her husband live in NYC in a two bedroom apartment.  I once saw a short interview with her from her home and all I remember about it was that it was a loft-like great room with boys swinging from the ceiling.  Literally swinging.

I love a girl that designs energy-expending activities into her decor.

It just goes to show how laid back she is taking this parenting thing.  There is story after story of absolute silliness that results from so many kids, pets, activities and expectations.  It is a fun read and I often found myself giggling and nodding.

My favorite parts of the book was the evolution of her love story.  It starts with a non-voluntary psychic reading and progresses to the insanity of their present life.

Didn’t I Feed You Yesterday is being released April 6.

Holly’s public restroom tour

Last week we took a road trip to Colorado.

Yes, we like a LOT of other Texans think that Colorado should just be part of Texas (in fact I would be willing to negotiate a map fold arrangement where we cut out about 7 hours of the trip between DFW and Vail).  What I love about Colorado is that pretty much everybody there is from Texas.  It is like we didn’t even leave home…except for the snow, the mountains, the skiing, the density of fine dining and a few snowcats.

The road trip takes us 14 hours at speed limit speed and very, very, very brief stops for the necessities for life.

The necessities of life include some snacking which I can pack ahead for…and the dreaded road trip restroom break.

*insert scary music here*

*very scary music*

*super scary music*

Please don’t make me pee in there!

Yes, this is an actual quote from one of my boys as I FORCED them to pee at a gas station.

I am a super mean mommy who would prefer not mopping up accidents in our relatively new car.

I have been taking road trips since birth.  Many things have improved across America in the 40 years I have been alive, but public gas station restrooms appear NOT to be one of them.

WHY are they so bad?

Let’s take a tour!

Yes.  I took pictures.

THAT is how out of control my disgust is.

So, the first restroom we come to is out of order.  I never know what level of disgustingness is required to actually have the OUT OF ORDER sign posted.  I would have made this call more often.

Good for this gas station for calling it like they see it…

Of course, next door to the OUT OF ORDER restroom is the now MEN AND WOMEN restroom, but please notice that this fine gas dispensing establishment does “NOT have public RR – (they) are for Customers ONLY”.

That must mean they are special.  They want to take good care of their CUSTOMERS and not waste all their restroom effort on the average American that might stop by but not buy anything.

I feel so special.

Until I enter the MEN AND WOMEN room…which by the way you need to “please lock behind you because both men and women are using”, because quite honestly, they should have condemned BOTH restrooms.

And to further our tour at another location there was this…

The haphazardly hanging paper dispenser which was awkwardly positioned next to the previous built-in paper dispenser that was partially ripped out of the wall.  I probably should consider it a miracle that the dispenser actually contained paper towels.

Have you ever noticed that the more disturbingly dirty the sink, the more likely it is to have a 1/2 peeled off sticker somewhere on it that declares it “sanitized”?

Our last picture on this very fine tour looks deceiving.  The walls are still relatively white with just a few watermark trail exceptions, the floor is solid-surface with decent cleaning potential, the toilet is still a shade of white and there is only a little paper on the floor…

So what is my problem?

Let’s just say that it is a good thing that smells cannot be translated through photographs and computer screens.

Yep, it was probably the worst restroom we visited on the trip and although the floor appears pretty clean, there is a 1/2 inch film of standing water across it that continues to make me squeamish just thinking about it.

The last gas station restroom that we visited was disturbing in another way.  I had just helped Rhett through the potty process and we walked out of the stall to the sink only to encounter a MAN.

Oh, and this was NOT the MEN AND WOMEN restroom.

He looked up.  Startled.

I stared at him.  Startled.

We both said at the same time, “am I in the wrong place?”

He left the sink with soapy hands to open the door and look at the sign.

He was in the wrong and fled the scene.  I felt bad for him a few minutes later as he was intentionally dodging any interaction with me in the mini mart.  He was hiding behind displays of soda, snacks and batteries.

There is one redeeming restroom fact that I have learned.  Believe it or not, the state of Texas has created and maintained rest stops that have sparkling clean restrooms.

*gasp*

I would never have believed it possible…the rest stops of my early road trip years were among the most frightening.  They usually boasted accommodations rivaling a porta-potty.  But the rest stops of 2010 are clean, well-stocked, patrolled and downright a pleasure…

except for the “Watch out for Rattlesnake” signs.

The Christmas Quilt Picture Story of 2007

At my first baby shower (pre-three boys) my mother-in-law gave me a Christmas quilt. Each year my children are subjected to posing with it for holiday photographs.

Last year my mom and I once again took the boys into Sears Portrait Studio at Golden Triangle Mall. I was relieved when I noticed the studio was deserted. The one photographer on duty did not seem pleased that we had made it to our appointment.

I explained to her that I brought a quilt to use for background. I then went on to explain how previous photographers had attached it to the Sears’ portrait studio equipment for the last 6 years. I need ONE portrait 5 x 7 to match the 6 I have at home from previous years.

She took the quilt and started what turned out to be a 15 minute process of quilt arrangement. I tried to be helpful, but she was a bit hostile.

Finally, she called that she was ready.

She arranged the older boys kneeling behind a chair where the baby was to sit.

The baby freaked and we spent 5 minutes bribing, cajoling and tricking the baby into the chair. It worked. We are picture ready!

1, 2, 3…POP! I pop the binky out of the baby’s mouth for the picture…
AND
*silence*
Nothing.
No picture.
No series of flashes.
Nothing captured on film.

I turned to the photographer and said, “I am going to pull the binky out so you can get a picture.”

Meanwhile, she is fussing at the older boys for moving despite the fact that they have been amazing little statues for the last 8 minutes kneeling.

1, 2, 3…POP!
AND
*silence*
I yell, “OK, we are ready!”
*one flash:*

A flurry of post-picture movement ensues.
*Get everyone settled down*

1, 2, 3…POP!
*pause*
*crickets*
*silence*
and finally as if in slow motion…
*one flash:*

By this point the older boys are legitimately complaining and needing to move.

I ask if we can switch poses.

No.

NO?

Nope. This is the ONLY way she can get the portrait 5 x 7 I requested.

That is weird. I guess all portrait 5×7 pictures in the entire universe of 3 boys have two on their knees and a baby in a small, white wicker chair in front of them.

I calmly suggest that they all sit.

That won’t work!

At this point she is saved by a phone call.

While she is out of the room answering the phone I arrange the boys on several red blocks I find in the room.

She returns.

I announce, “we are ready!”

1, 2, 3…POP!
*silence*
*more silence*
*continued silence*
*yep, more silence*
*one flash:*

The boys are off in 3 different directions.

I say, “OK, we are finished”.

She says, “I have to get individual pictures”.

“I am not going to buy individual pictures”.

She sets up for individual pictures.

Boy #1: Sitting by himself. Almost in tears.

She is yelling, “Smile! I can’t take the picture until you smile!”

It was ugly.

So ugly that grandma stepped in and said, “here lets take a picture on grandma’s lap” so she got positioned and flash:

Whew. One down.

Boy #2: Sitting on grandma’s lap. Traumatized by recent photographic events. Fidgeting. Grandma gently rocks to calm him.

She yells, “stop moving! I can’t take the picture if you move like that!”

The rocking continues because boy #2 is upset.

“Stop moving!”

“Take the picture!” I scream.

*flash:*

That is enough!

I say, “we are done”.

Grandma takes the boys and heads to the mall play area.

The photographer starts to chase them into Sears.

I say, “what are you doing?”

She says, “MA’AM, I CAN’T EVEN SHOW YOU THESE PICTURES UNTIL I HAVE 6″.

We have been there for 30 minutes and she only has 5 shots.

“TAKE MY PICTURE NOW!”

And then she poses me.
Sideways to the camera, looking over my shoulder and with both thumbs in the back pocket of my mommy jean capris.

*flash:*

And that is how I ended up with a picture of myself with a pleasant “mommy about to make the 6 o’clock news with violent attack on photographer at local department store” expression on my face.

She had her 6 shots.

I bought ONE portrait 5×7 of the first shot.

Holly wrote this story last year for June Cleaver Nirvana. It is one of her favorite stories and she has vowed to post it yearly…

Holly’s Big Hair Day

Holly’s Tips for Shopping with Kids

After years and years and years of motherhood,

I have developed this simple system

for the management of children

during shopping trips.

It is really helpful.

You will want to adopt it ASAP.

I may win some sort of parenting award for this one.

*drum roll*

Holly’s Simple System of Child Management When Shopping

Step 1:  Pack them carefully into the shopping cart where they won’t crush the produce or eggs.

Step 2:  Pack them carefully into the trunk* where they won’t crush the produce or eggs.

Your unharmed eggs and produce can thank me later…

*Of course I am kidding.  You must be new around here.  Geesh!

A Tale of Two Pumpkin Patches

Once upon a time not far from Holly’s house in a popular suburb of one of the countries largest cities was a pumpkin patch. And by pumpkin patch Holly means a large picturesque field where pumpkins are trucked in and laid in neat rows.

Holly and her family visited and enjoyed the pumpkin patch very much. They looked forward to the following fall so that they could visit again.

The next year Holly was surprised to see the WHOLE field full of pumpkins. She couldn’t wait to go visit the super-sized pumpkin patch.

Hey, wait!

It wasn’t just one pumpkin patch. It was now two.

Practically identical pumpkin patches sitting right next to each other.

Holly wasn’t the only one that noticed the phenomenon.

The pumpkin patches noticed each other.

Soon each patch had new signs:

And then some more signs:

At this point some legal action took place that Holly is too tired to review and report back to you. She assumes it involved lawyers, judges and a whole bunch of pumpkin patch proceeds.

She would also like to make the following legal disclaimer: Holly has no further understanding of this case then what is obvious to the general public while driving a minivan past the patches at no more than 50 mph. Nothing drawn in marker should be construed as fact, opinion or slander.

Once the case was settled, things settled down a bit at the patches.

One of the patches received a new name!

And so it went for a few pumpkin seasons. The Patch and Village coexisted in a civil manner. As civil as two fighting children required to sit next to each other.

Then a new sign appeared last fall on the patch formally known as Village:

It appeared they had changed their name to Park.

Why Park?

Holly thinks that it might have something to do with the fact that when you drive from town toward the Patch, you cannot tell that there are two separate pumpkin entities. All you are looking for is pumpkins and a place to park:

That Pumpkin Park is so sneaky it is downright scary.

Restless Texas Children Syndrome (RTCS)

I have found the exact half-life of Texas rain tolerance to be 6.3 hours.  During that window my family can enjoy the rain, participate in the rain, and post-pone anything that would include DEALING with the rain.

After that window, it just isn’t pretty.

Push that window 1, 2, 3, 4…and shoot me now…5 days and we have a major problem.

By day 5 we are puppies cooped up in a box biting each others’ ears and howling at the rain.  This is not a situation that normal Texas weather prepares us for.  We are fish out of water.  We are Texans in rain.

It isn’t just that most activities are now inside, I believe the intense humidity penetrates our Texas skulls.

Children seem to be the most susceptible with contributing factors of increased TV ingestion, repetitive play syndrome and a cranky parent environment.  What is the cure?

Recovery is spontaneous with a dose of Texas sun.

Rain or shine, today I am opening up the doors and releasing the hounds…

Monday – Cloak of Invisibility

Being around boys a lot I have noticed a little trend.

It is something that I could have gone my whole life as a girl not understanding.

It appears that in a boy’s mind there are magical tree powers.  Ladies, it has come to my attention that when a boy needs to pee they go directly to the nearest tree.

Why a tree?

My girl’s mind assumes that a group of trees might provide some privacy.  My boys’ minds assumes that any pee on a tree creates a cloak of invisibility.  So, no need to walk INTO the woods – any peripheral tree will do.

Urine + tree bark = complete camoflauge

I am sure some man in the Secret Service is refining this formula at this very moment.

Friday – Burbs Gone Wild

I love that Shauna tackled tattoos in the burb this week on Burb Mom.  In many ways we all fall into our minivan-driving, Target-shopping, Starbucks-consuming, Banana-Republic-dressing, gym-membership-pending, bottled-water-toting, 2.2-children-bearing, reality-TV-watching, church-going suburban mom stereotype.  But in every suburban mom there is a little typecast rebellion.

I mean we weren’t exactly born with keys to the minivan in our hands.

At some point in our lives people didn’t look our direction when someone yelled, “mom!”

There was even a day when we peed alone.

*gasp*

Let me state that last one again just to help me get through this day…there was even a day when we peed alone.

There is a little rebel in me.

Not enough for a tattoo, but definitely enough to know that a very nice poker room is a 42 minute drive from my house at WinStar that holds daily Texas Hold ‘em tournaments.

Stay at home moms sneaking north to play poker isn’t exactly the suburban norm, but normal is really overrated.

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